


Shelter from the Storm

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-02
Updated: 2009-02-02
Packaged: 2018-10-01 12:35:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10190018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: In the forests of Scotland, Harry hunts Death Eaters and they hunt him. But is he ready to face Severus Snape?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

In the growing dusk, Harry crouched against the rough bark of the tree blocking some of the biting wind. Shivering, he pulled his invisibility cloak tighter around himself, even though the thin cloth didn't provide much in the way of warmth. Who could have predicted that Autumn in Scotland could get so fucking cold? The spell Hermione had found kept his clothes warm and dry even in the pounding rain, but it did nothing to protect his skin and somehow the damp chill worked its way in, leaving even his well-wrapped torso frigid. Once again, he resisted the urge to cast a simple warming spell so that his fingers no longer felt like freezepops. It would be simple and easy; however, magic left traces and he had learned two weeks into this hell only to cast in the field when it was absolutely necessary.

The rain poured in thick, blinding sheets around him as he slowly inched his way towards the river, his eyes scanning the tree line. Suddenly he lost his footing on the slippery bank and his legs shot out from under him, flipping him over onto his stomach on the muddy embankment. He thrust out his arms, groping blindly with his left hand in the mud, scrambling to find purchase amongst the tree roots and weeds without losing his wand. He managed to wrap his free hand around a root just as his feet splashed into the cold water and an arctic chill surged through his body. 

Cursing to himself, Harry shoved his wand between his teeth, grimacing at the mud coating the wood, and grabbed onto the root with his right hand. Pain erupted from the still-healing wound on his right arm, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He dug his cold, wet feet into the mud and hauled himself back to drier land, where he spat the dirt from his mouth and curled into a ball, pulling his cloak over his huddled form as he waited to catch his breath. A bolt of lightning lit up the entire forest brighter than daylight while a deep rumble of thunder rolled in from a distance. The wind lashed the trees violently, scattering twigs and leaves on the ground. Harry hoped that the sounds of the storm masked his clumsy fall but he knew it was best not to take chances and so he hid, waiting under his cloak for one of _them_ to come investigate the noise. 

For three long, agonizing minutes he remained there, muscles tense, ready to spring up at the slightest notice to attack or defend. When he heard nothing but the pounding of rain, and peals of thunder; and saw nothing but the wind lashing the trees, he started to climb to his feet.

And then he saw it, a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye that didn’t match the patterns of the storm. He halted, adrenaline flooding his body. Halfway to his feet, he stared at the dark shadow skulking by the edge of the trees to his left. The black figure glided through the trees with far too much deliberation to be an animal searching for shelter from the storm. It had to be a Death Eater. The Order members knew not to enter his territory without alerting him first and, despite months in the field, he had never encountered a Muggle. 

Had the Death Eater spotted his legs or just heard the noise and come to investigate? Harry knew his cloak would protect him from detection as long as he kept himself fully covered. If he hadn’t been seen, then his best bet was to wait. If the Death Eater had spied the flash of Harry’s trainers and jeans, then he needed to run. 

Harry returned to a crouch, moving ever so slightly with each slow, paced breath, his wand in a white-knuckle grip in his hand. He had mastered the art of controlling his breathing and his movements so that now only his heart beat was out of control. Blood pounding in his ears, he pointed his wand towards the figure in black and prayed that he had just tipped the scales from prey to hunter. 

The slow pulse of magic, a detection spell most likely, flowed through him and his heart skipped a beat. Unless this Death Eater was inexperienced, Harry hadn’t been seen. It would be foolish of the Death Eater to give away his position with a spell if he knew that Harry had scrambled onto the bank. Moving at glacial speed, Harry lowered his wand to the mud and pushed the tip out ever so carefully. His eyes focused on the figure in black that had paused by the base of a large tree several yards away from where he hid. A year ago Harry would’ve attacked, but he had learned to bide his time and so he waited, hoping that the figure would advance rather than retreat.

After a lengthy pause, the Death Eater granted his wish and swept out from the safety of the trees straight towards Harry. Harry forced himself to hold back his attack, counting to five in his head as he waited for the figure to come close enough to cast upon. 

The shadow glided straight at him, moving so effortlessly that, for a second, Harry wondered if he had chanced upon a Dementor by mistake. But as the dark form moved closer, the unmistakable white smear of a human face appeared and Harry lifted his wand and cried " _stupefy!_ " just as the Death Eater cast another detection spell. 

Months of warfare had trained him well and he caught the Death Eater straight in the chest, the red spell dissipating as it hit its target. Harry jumped to his feet and cast another _stupefy_ as he ran towards the fallen Death Eater who now lay in a crumpled heap of black. Long, black hair covered the face of whomever he had hit, but when Harry got close enough to make out the cut of the robes, he knew immediately who he had captured: Severus Snape. 

~

Harry triple-checked the bindings on his unconscious prisoner. He had floated Snape back to his cabin and tied him to his single chair; both with rope and by magic. He lit a candle, placing it on the nearby table, even though the frequent lightning and the small fire crackling in the fireplace made the flame redundant. Rain beat heavily against the roof and lashed at the solitary window, the droplets so fat it sounded as though someone were chucking small pebbles at the cabin. The water seeped through the cracks in the door and where the window panes met the wood of the walls, leaving little puddles of water that scattered the flickering lights.

Satisfied that Snape wouldn't be able to escape, Harry leaned against the table and stared at his most hated enemy. He couldn’t believe that he had managed to capture Snape. Harry had tangled with the Potions Master many times, but this was the first time he had the more experienced and powerful wizard completely under his control. He had captured other Death Eaters before, but never Snape. With Snape, he usually had to admit defeat within the first five minutes of their encounters. He must be improving and if he could capture Snape, Voldemort’s right-hand man, then he might be able defeat Voldemort. 

Thinking of Voldemort and Snape’s loyalty to the Dark Lord enraged Harry and now, looking at a defenceless and unconscious Snape, the need for vengeance intensified and he stepped forward to press the tip of his wand into Snape’s left shoulder, hard enough to bruise. He imagined, with great satisfaction, the colour draining from the black eyes as the Death Eater died. It was a delightfully perverse thought, but he yanked his wand away. Among other things, he wanted to see Snape captive; forced to give up his knowledge to aid the Order. It seemed a more fitting punishment. For a proud bastard like Snape, a loyal follower of Voldemort, the idea of forced servitude to Harry probably terrified him more than death. He had to know that Harry would pay him back for all that he had done to him. 

Harry backhanded Snape across the face as hard as he could; Snape’s head jerked, strands of long, greasy black hair falling over his face. Once cut to just above his shoulders, it now fell to half-way down his upper arms. Harry grabbed a fistful of it and had a pleasant fantasy of cutting it all off, maybe even shaving the bastard bald. That would have to come later though, maybe tomorrow after he sent in his report. He knew he should send a Patronus to headquarters, informing them he had captured Snape, but he wanted the Death Eater to himself, away from the rules and regulations of the Order. For months he had been planning what he would do to Snape should he ever catch him, but now that he had him, he couldn’t decide where to begin. Maybe he should make the arsehole beg first. The mental image of Snape on his knees, begging Harry for forgiveness, sent a thrill through him. 

“ _Rennervate_ ,” he said, punching Snape so hard as he cast that his knuckles ached and Snape’s nose broke. The dark head jerked back and Snape’s eyes flew open. Blood streamed down his face from his nose, but when his black eyes focused on Harry, his lips twisted into a sneer.

“Potter,” he spat, sending specks of blood and spit flying. “I always knew you weren’t much of a hero. I'm sure your fans would be most impressed with your eagerness to torture unarmed prisoners." His eyes shifted to his wand, resting on the table behind Harry and Harry saw him discreetly test the bonds.

“Shut it, Snape.” Harry emphasized his words with a jab of his wand. “You’ve done much worse to me. I know you’d be torturing me if I didn’t have you tied up.”

“I’ve never pretended otherwise, Potter.” Snape’s eyes darted around the small, one-roomed cabin; taking in Harry’s narrow bed, the small table crammed against the wall, the even smaller one beside the bed, the shelves stocked with food, and the window. "Have you given up playing the perfect hero? Decided to reveal your true colours? I always knew you were nothing more than a-"

“Look at me,” Harry said, casting a spell to cut open Snape’s cheek. He once again questioned the wisdom of bringing Snape here, to his base. The idea of tying Snape to a tree and torturing him out in the cold as the rain mercilessly beat down had appealed to him greatly, but he'd had no desire to remain out in the storm, and knew he could best hold Snape indoors. Still, perhaps he should have found some other place. Harry gripped his wand tighter, determined not to let Snape escape and ruin this chance at revenge.

“If you intend to kill me then get on with it,” said Snape in a bored voice. “If you expect me to beg, you’re wasting your time.”

“I’m not going to kill you, and you know why?”

“Because you're a whinging coward? Spare me your reasons, unless you plan on talking me to death."

“Fuck you.” Harry sliced open Snape’s other cheek with a jerk of his wand. Goddamn the bastard, he always had to have control. “I’m not going to kill you because death is too good for you. You are going to tell us everything you know and bring down your master. If you cooperate, we may not give you to the Dementors. Either way, you will do exactly what I want.”

Snape chuckled. “You seriously believe that I will tell you what you wish to hear? Really, Potter, your stupidity never ceases to amaze me.”

“You’ll tell,” Harry said. “The body can only take so much pain after all. You’ll beg to spill your secrets to me.”

“And who will torture me, you?” Snape sneered, showing off his crooked, yellow teeth. “You lack the nerve. In fact, I'm amused that you believe yourself capable of torturing me enough to make me speak. You, coddled and protected at every step by greater wizards who gave their lives to protect your worthless hide. Where were you when your beloved mutt died? Right there, and you weren't able to protect him. Or that night on the astronomy tower-"

" _CRUCIO!_ " screamed Harry.

Blood pounded through Harry's head as Snape's eyes snapped up and his mouth fell open. He jerked and twisted against the bonds, his hair flying and his nails clawing thin air. A gargled sort of scream emerged from his throat whilst the chair banged against the wooden floor, the noise almost overwhelming Harry's heartbeat. 

Harry let up the _Cruciatus_ to cast _Legilimens_. He didn't expect to break in, not after a single round of _Crucio_ , but he felt the unmistakable push of entry and then he was inside Snape's mind. A memory floated towards him and he pulled it closer, diving into it. In the memory, Snape leaned against a wall in the dungeons. In front of him, Harry knelt in his school robes, sucking Snape's cock. 

"That's right..." Snape moaned. "Suck me harder."

Harry tore himself away from that memory. That wasn't possible! He hadn't done that. He jumped into the next one and found himself being fucked over Snape's desk. He wore only his Gryffindor tie this time, and Snape used it as a leash. The end of it wrapped around his fist, he yanked memory Harry up to his feet.

"Tell me how you like it, Potter," Snape said, his low, cold voice sending shivers through memory-Harry's body. 

"More... more...." gasped memory-Harry, Snape's thrusts forcing him up on tip toes, his full cock waving in the air. "Fuck me harder."

Harry ripped himself away from the memories and retreated out of Snape's head. He stumbled backwards, banging his lower back against the edge of the table. Those couldn't be real. He would've remembered if Snape had fucked him at Hogwarts. They had to have been fabricated. But they seemed so fucking real!

In his distraction, he didn't notice when Snape escaped his bonds, only when he leapt to his feet and caught his wand, a twisted grin upon his face.

FUCK!! How did the slippery bastard escape? Harry stood no chance against Snape in close combat and he knew it. He did the first thing that crossed his mind. " _Turbatio!_ " Smoke filled the room and Harry darted towards the door, yanked it open, and sprinted out into the storm.

He cut a jagged trail in his escape, running several yards in one direction before turning and taking off again in another. When his heart burned in his chest and each lungful of air ached, he knew he needed to rest. Slowing to a creep, he found a thicket and retreated to its safety to calm his body and scan the landscape for signs of Snape. Fuck! Fuck!

How could he have been so bloody stupid? He should've informed the Order straight away of Snape's capture. He should've kept the bastard unconscious. He should've killed him. Instead, Harry had taken his worst enemy straight to his home and left him there. The slimy git had probably planned it too. Their previous encounters had always ended with Harry slipping away under his invisibility cloak, returning to his makeshift home only when he was certain Snape could not follow him. It had been far too easy to capture Snape and break into his mind. Those fake memories had been far too well-crafted for Snape to have developed them on the spot. He had wanted Harry to try to break into his mind. Harry had been playing right into Snape’s hands the entire time. 

He couldn't help the "Fuck!" that escaped past his lips. Snape was probably waiting for him back at his cabin, making a hot cup of tea whilst Harry, wearing a t-shirt, trousers, and a jumper; froze out in the worst storm he'd ever seen.

He huddled in a ball and breathed on his fingers debating his options. If Snape decided to hunt him, then he should return to his cabin straight away, as once Snape left the wards, he wouldn't be able to get back in. However, if Snape was back at the cabin, then he should remain out here. Unlike the rest of the Death Eaters, who always appeared in pairs, Harry had never seen another Death Eater in the woods when Snape was around. He could use his magic to keep himself from freezing to death; but how long would Snape lie in wait in the cabin? Harry would have to return eventually in order to eat. He had learned to identify some of the local edible flora, but he had never tried to hunt before and didn't know if he could. 

He could Apparate back to headquarters, but he worried that Snape had managed to place some sort of tracking spell on him. Besides, he couldn't leave his post unguarded. For the first time in months, Harry wished he had a partner. Memories of past partners returned to him, reminding him why he had insisted on working alone. Fred, grinning- No, no. This was not the time for angst and whinging. He'd return back to his base and force Snape to leave. He wasn't a piss-poor wizard. He had learned to hunt, duel, and capture Death Eaters proficiently. He needed to stand up to Snape and put the bastard in his place or else Snape would always walk all over him. 

His resolve hardened, Harry slowly crept out of the bushes. He remained close to the tree line, crouching as he made his way back to his hut at a snail's pace. He lived in these woods long enough to know the path home, despite the fact that he had fled blindly and the heavy rain limited his field of vision. He hid in the cover of the trees when he reached the clearing where his cabin lay shrouded by the heavy wards. He searched for Snape but didn't see the greasy bastard anywhere. The cabin's door still hung open, revealing most of the living area's interior, with no sign of Snape to be seen.

Harry's eyes darted around the area, looking for any hint of movement. Seeing none, he flew across the clearing and into the cabin, slammed the door behind him and cast the detection spell just as he felt a wand tip press into his back. " _Petrificus Totalus_." 

Harry tumbled forward to the floor, raging in his mind. The fucker had found where he hid his invisibility cloak. 

"So careless, Potter," Snape's voice breathed in his ear, cold fingers brushing against his neck. "You should've taken your cloak with you. But you were never one for strategy, were you?"

" _Mobilicorpus_." Harry felt the magical tendrils wrap tightly around his body and lift him into the air. He was manoeuvred over to his little bed, now transfigured into a massive four-poster, and hovered in the air, a hand span from the surface. 

"You are quite fortunate that the Dark Lord wishes for you to be captured alive," Snape plucked the glasses from Harry’s nose and stroked his fingers down Harry's spine. "So you don't have to worry, I won't kill you." Snape's fingers travelled back up to Harry's nape and he bent down, his hot breath stirring the hair near Harry's left ear. In a low, deep voice, he added, "But I will fuck you."

Harry stared down at his bed, suspended above its surface. An internal shiver ran through him, fear mixed with anticipation.

"And you, you will submit to me." The order was delivered in a near growl, Snape's fingers tightening on the back of Harry's neck. The fingers left and Harry heard Snape shift towards his legs.

Snape's hands slid under Harry's stomach to pop open the top button on his trousers, unzip them, and jerk them off his hips, yanking down his y-fronts as well. Cold fingers brushed up his partially spread thighs and danced across his balls. His frozen skin and muscles didn't react to the tantalizing touch, but heat seared through him, igniting the arousal uncurling in his belly. 

"If I enjoy it; if you make it worth my while," Snape continued in the same tone he used to lecture, his fingers roaming over Harry's frozen, flaccid penis, "then I might pretend I never saw you."

"However...." The teasing fingers left him alone and his voice slid into dark anger. "You had better be very, very obedient to make up for your atrocious behaviour. I do not forgive easily." The fingers returned, this time curling in Harry's hair and yanking hard. Harry's eyes teared as Snape's hold on his hair tore at his scalp.

Snape continued in the same dangerous voice, "If you refuse to submit, then I will punish you for your transgressions before I deliver you to him. He said alive, but not... unharmed." The tip of Snape's wand pressed against Harry's throat. "Now, will you submit to me?"

Harry felt magic enter him, unfreezing his vocal cords and jaw. He tried pursing his lips and found he could move his mouth again. It was useless to argue; Snape always got what he wanted. "Yes," he whispered, his heart about to burst from his chest. "Yes, I will submit to you."

Every time, Snape waited for him to agree to submit and every time he fought until Snape threatened to deliver him to Voldemort unless he allowed himself to be raped. Because it was rape if he only agreed to do it to avoid being brought before Voldemort. No one could accuse him of asking for this to happen if he fought until he had no other choice. It wasn't as if he wanted to be fucked by Snape. He wasn't submitting willingly, only under duress and therefore he couldn't be held responsible for what Snape did to him.

It didn't matter that every time Snape let him go afterwards; that after three months of this, he had become mostly convinced that the 'might' in Snape’s always-stated line of ‘I might pretend I never saw you’ was really a 'will'. That as long as he let Snape do what he wanted, he didn't have to fear being dragged to Voldemort. There was still that possibility though. The knowledge that, at any moment, Snape could get bored with this game and decide to end it. With that knowledge, this was always rape; and Harry, blameless.

" _Finite incantatem_." Harry fell to the bed, his face falling into the pillow. His penis, forbidden to fill under the petrification spell, sprang to life. Snape enjoyed it best when Harry showed signs of arousal and desire, so it was only natural for him to get hard when Snape touched him. He was only erect because Snape wanted him to be.

Snape grabbed Harry's arms and twisted them together behind Harry's back. He tied them together with a spell, some whispered word Harry never quite understood.

"What a whore you are," Snape sneered as he pushed a slick finger into Harry's arse. "I think you want to be fucked."

"No," gasped Harry, forcing his hips to be still.

Snape jerked his finger out. "Don't lie to me, Potter. Open your mouth."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and opened his mouth, his heart pounding in his chest. He always fought against Snape before they fucked, but he had never caught and tortured the Death Eater before. Why had he been so stupid?! He should've known Snape would escape; that he would turn the tables and force Harry to submit just like every single other time. And then, once he had Harry helpless and completely in his control, take his revenge like the sadist he was.

Cloth touched Harry's tongue and pushed against the corners of his lips. Snape tied the gag by hand and pushed Harry's head back to the pillow, turning him to face the wall. Harry swallowed hard, trying to hide his relief. _Mobilicorpus_ yanked his bum up into the air and pushed his legs apart. He hated how Snape used the spell to manoeuvre him as though he were a rag doll, but compared to what Snape could do to him, it was nothing.

"You never could lie, could you?" Snape asked in a smug voice as he tapped his fingertip against the base of Harry's erection. He cupped Harry's balls and squeezed them in his hand, just hard enough to hurt a little. "You are about ready to burst." His grip loosened and Harry felt him rolling the nubs in their soft sack, the soft touch sending pulses of arousal to his already stiff penis. "I know you want me to fuck you but I don't think you could handle my cock right now. I think you are so desperate for me to put anything in your arse that you'll come on a finger alone." To emphasize his words, Snape released Harry's balls and shoved his finger back past Harry's rim, pressing against the spot that made Harry's cock twitch.

Harry bit hard on his gag, unwilling to betray how desperately he wanted to orgasm. Snape pulled his finger out, nearly removing it completely, before he buried it in again, repeating the action and hitting that special place with each methodical stroke. Harry held back his arousal, determined to show that Snape had misjudged him and he wasn't so needy for contact that even the finger of his worst enemy could bring him off.

"Don't try to fight it." Snape's free left hand stroked down Harry's back in a way that Harry would've called tender had it been anyone else doing it to him. "I know how badly you want it."

He wanted release, but not from Snape; not from the man responsible for so many deaths. The Death Eater who caught and raped him over and over and over again. And yet, even though Snape continuously toyed with him, Harry couldn't find the strength to refuse to give in and end the charade. 

"Look at how wet you are." Snape pressed a fingertip against the head of Harry's penis, rubbing it around in a slow circle. He wanted to thrust his prick against that finger and fuck Snape's hand but he knew he'd come if he allowed himself to do that. 

Fingers circled around Harry's foreskin and rolled it back, exposing the delicate head. Harry gasped around his gag as a gust of cool air brushed over the wet head of his dick. The finger in his arse sped up, pressing deeper, harder; sending electric pulses of magic into his balls and through his cock. 

"Shall I release you from the spell?" Snape asked as he uncurled his fingers from Harry's penis and brushed his hand up Harry's torso, sneaking under the jumper and shirt to capture a nipple. "Let you hump the bed like the wanton little slut you are?" He tugged on Harry's nipple in time to the thrusts of his finger and the dual sensation overwhelmed Harry. 

He didn't want to give in, to let Snape control his pleasure, but he couldn't last long; he never did. Two hard pinches on his nipples and he lost control, his eyelids clenched so tightly together he could see stars, and a choked groan erupted from his throat. His body shook as he came, his dick pulsing and his come shooting out onto the sheets in streams of milky white. 

In a satisfied voice, Snape said, "I knew you couldn't last," and pulled out his finger. " _Finite Incantatem_." 

Harry dropped to the bed, his body landing in his come. He curled his untied hands under his chest, willing his heart to calm. Snape's fingers grabbed and twisted into his hair, yanking his head back so violently it felt like his neck would snap. 

Snape growled into Harry's ear, "You thought you had the ability to torture me into a confession, didn't you?" 

He could feel Snape's hot breath next to his face and wanted to pull away from the bastard, but couldn't. "Yes," he answered through the gag. It was pointless to lie. Snape always knew when he lied.

"It wouldn't have worked because you have no control." The gag disappeared from around Harry's mouth. "Tell me, Potter. Do you think you have control?"

Harry wanted to shout 'yes,' he did have control but he knew that wasn't the answer Snape wanted to hear so he gave him the proper one. With his eyes on the bed, Harry said, "No."

"You hesitated," hissed Snape. He released Harry's hair, but not before shoving his face into the pillow. "You think you have control. In that pathetic little head of yours, you believe yourself to be a great wizard, don't you?" He continued on, not giving Harry a chance to respond. "You think you are a hero, some sort of saviour destined to save the world but you are _nothing_. Nothing but a stupid child, a little boy who can't defend himself, much less anyone else. A weak, whinging-"

"I'm not weak!" Harry yelled, pushing himself up on his hands. 

Snape chuckled. "Oh? Will you try to fight me now?" His dark eyes glittered with amusement. He pulled Harry's wand out of his robes and tossed it onto the bed. "Pick it up, Potter. Let's see if you can last longer than a few seconds."

Harry clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to grab the wand, let dark magic explode from him, and tear Snape to pieces. Snape expected that, by the look of him, his wand out and pointed directly at Harry. A few days ago, Harry would have, but now, determined to prove his control, he took a deep breath and said, "no."

"No?" asked Snape, his voice soft and deadly.

Snape thought he knew how to control Harry, but he was wrong. Harry met Snape's eyes with determination. In an even voice, he said, "I said I would submit, so I will."

Snape stood there for a moment, his black eyes never wavering from Harry's. A slow smile spread across his lips. "Lie on your back and place your hands above your head; one wrist on top of the other."

Knowing that Snape would probably remove them eventually anyway, Harry stripped off his jumper and shirt, dropping them both off the side of the bed before he lay back and placed his hands as Snape ordered. He felt a binding spell wrap around his wrists and yank them towards the wall above his head. Snape had tied Harry's hands each time, ever since the day Snape had called Ginny a whore. On that occasion, Harry had reached down between his legs and squeezed and twisted Snape's bollocks as hard as he could. Now, it was unnecessary; he was determined to not react to Snape's insults -- no matter what Snape said.

Snape trailed a finger down Harry's chest, watching the path it took with his eyes. "You are the only person besides the Dark Lord who has dared to cast the _Cruciatus_ on me. Did you think you'd get away with it?"

"Yes," admitted Harry, closing his eyes as terror surged through his body. What had he been thinking? After he had crushed Snape's balls, Snape had tracked him down and taken his revenge. Even though Snape had healed everything he did to Harry shortly after, and it had happened several months ago, Harry still shuddered every time he walked past that tree. Now, he knew that he would never be able to look at his bed again without remembering the pain and fear that Snape would surely inflict on him tonight. 

"You're trembling," Snape said, a hint of amusement to his voice, as his fingers stroked Harry's chest. "I though you Gryffindors were supposed to be brave."

Harry steadied his voice, willing his body to calm. "If I fought, you'd call me stupid, impulsive, rash-"

"You can be taught after all," mused Snape. "Look at me."

Harry forced his eyes open. Snape stood by the side of the bed, his body still buried under swaths of robes. Without his glasses, Harry couldn't make out the expression on Snape's face but he could tell he had healed all the injuries Harry had given him.

"I'll teach you a lesson in self-control." Snape reached down and trickled his fingers over Harry's soft penis. 

Harry bit his lip, staring at Snape's hands, which wrapped around his penis and squeezed in rhythm with his heart beat. "Just don't- don't cut off anything."

"Cut off anything?" Snape arched an eyebrow at Harry.

"Not that." 

"Relax." Snape stroked his free hand down Harry's chest. "I won't hurt you...yet." He released Harry's penis and caressed his balls. "You will tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how close you are to orgasm; ten representing orgasm. I'm sure that even a nitwit like you can manage such a simple task. You do remember how to count to ten, don't you?"

Harry glared at Snape, wishing he were a basilisk. "Yes, I can count to ten."

"Then do so." 

Warm hands caressed Harry's penis again, unsheathing and re-sheathing his head, rolling around his shaft, and rubbing against the base. 

"One." Harry relaxed against the bed, yielding to the arousal building in his stomach. "Two." He closed his eyes and focused on the heat filling his groin, the way his penis filled and fitted in Snape's hands. Most of the time, Snape took him immediately after his first orgasm, thrusting into him whilst the afterglow washed over him. Out in the woods, sex had become a frantic rutting, a desperate race to the mindless bliss of orgasm. He had never been played with like this -- teased and stroked and fondled instead of pushed to climax. It wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to lose himself in the thrill of sexual pleasure. He needed to forget the war, the deaths, the long lonely nights, the endless battles, and the fruitless searches. This slow build of pleasure wasn't enough to overwhelm him, he needed more.

"Are you focused, Potter?" Snape tugged Harry's penis hard to emphasize his words.

"Yes, yes I'm focused. Three- no, four. Four." Harry thrust his hips, pushing his growing erection into Snape's hands.

Snape pressed two fingers into the spot below Harry’s balls, rubbing in slow circles. One drifted downwards to brush over his puckered entrance. "Do you want to be fucked?"

"Yes," Harry said straight away. The sooner Snape entered him, the closer he was to orgasm.

"Not nearly enough." Snape worked his way back up Harry's penis, playing with the head.

"Five," moaned Harry as Snape's fingers dipped beneath his foreskin and twirled around the swollen glans. He canted his hips in need and when Snape wrapped his hand around Harry's shaft, Harry bit back a moan and fucked the fist, his hips rising all the way off the bed as he shot towards completion. "Six. Seven."

"Such a desperate whore. If I had known what a complete slut you were, I would've done this earlier."

Shamed, Harry forced his hips to still. "I'm not- I don't-"

"Don't lie to me," Snape growled, crushing Harry's balls in a tight grip.

"I'm not!" said Harry, as he shifted his hips to try to escape Snape's grasp. He didn't know why he felt the need to defend himself but he hated it when Snape called him a slut more than anything else. "I've never- with anyone else." Humiliation overwhelmed him as he realised he had just admitted to being a virgin before Snape had begun this twisted game of cat and mouse. He kept his eyes screwed tightly shut and in a hoarse voice added, "Do you think the other Death Eaters do this to me?"

Snape grabbed Harry's chin. "Look at me," he ordered.

Harry forced his eyes to open and saw Snape's dark eyes burning.

In a deep, angry voice, Snape said, "they don't because you are mine. Did you think it was just coincidence that you've rarely had an encounter with another Death Eater these past months?" He jerked Harry's head roughly to the side before he released Harry's chin and stepped away from the edge of the bed. "You are mine as long as you continue to please me." He removed his wand from his robe and aimed it at Harry's dick. Harry bit his tongue, and promised himself that, no matter what Snape did to him this time, he wouldn't cry.

A golden spell burst out of the end of Snape's wand and wrapped Harry's cock in warmth and tingling magic. A strand of the spell shot down his piss-slit, filling him with heat and pleasure as though he was receiving a blowjob from the inside. Arousal flowed from his groin, coursing through his veins, alighting all the nerves of his body in an ecstatic version of the Cruciatus curse. He screamed, his back bowing and nearly arching him off the bed from the sheer sensation of it all. His entire world was a bright light of rapture, and the ecstasy pulsing around and through his dick so strong that, for a moment, he thought he might have died.

Snape's voice called him back to reality. "I assume that's a nine. I'll reduce the strength." Harry's mind cleared and his vision returned as the spell around his cock loosened its grip and lowered in intensity, letting him breathe again.

"How close are you?" Snape queried with a detached air to his voice as though he were observing one of his cauldrons.

"Nn- nine," gasped Harry. Even though Snape had lowered the strength of the spell, his penis still felt close to bursting any moment and he humped the air desperately, trying to gain friction. 

Snape waved his wand and the spell lessened considerably, leaving a soft tingling sensation that gently squeezed his penis. Harry forced his breath to become steady and normal, his heart still beating out of control. After several minutes, he said, "eight."

The chair scurried across the room towards them and transformed; the back of it shooting up whilst the seat widened and cushioning appeared. Once it resembled a throne more than a kitchen chair, Snape swept into it and gazed upon Harry with an expression that reminded Harry of a king surveying his subjects.

They sat there, the small cabin filled with the sound of rain beating on the roof, the fire spitting, and Harry's ragged breathing.

Snape finally spoke, his voice even and low, "In your fumbling, adolescent attempts at self-pleasure, have you ever attempted to hold off your orgasm for as long as possible whilst remaining on the precipice?"

Harry nodded. "Yes." Most of the time, his wanking had been a furtive activity accomplished as quickly as possible in order to conceal his desires from his relatives, classmates, and fellow Order members. Occasionally though, he took his time with his pleasure, building and building, holding on to his arousal until the need for release overtook him.

"How long have you lasted?"

"S-several minutes," Harry said, barely able to concentrate with the spell pulsating around and in his penis.

Snape rotated his wand slightly and the intensity increased. "I could leave you like this for days," he mused.

"Days?" choked Harry, unable to keep the surprise and horror from his face even as the spell sent shivers throughout his body. Days? He wouldn't be able to take a piss. He wouldn't-

"The numbers, Potter. You do remember how to count, don't you?"

"Nine! Nine." Harry threw back his head, his arms trembling as the spell shifted up and down his shaft like a caterpillar bunching and straightening out again. The strand in his hole fucked him in a way he had never thought possible, pulling pleasure so intense it seemed as though his whole body consisted of only his cock.

Snape flicked his wand and Harry no longer felt as though he would explode. 

Once he could breath again and his heart no longer felt as though it would burst from his chest any moment, he gasped, "ah, eight."

Without leaving his chair, Snape Summoned the table to him and began to fix tea, not looking at Harry whilst he prepared it. Harry bit back his whimper, determined not to reveal his neediness. He had never been so ignored and he hated it even more than when Snape hurt him.

"Tea bags?" Snape asked, his voice rife with disgust. "You only have tea bags?"

"We're in the middle of a fucking war!"

"That's no excuse." Snape shook his head. He added a teabag to the single mug Harry owned and poured in hot water.

Harry's fingers clawed at the air as the spell vibrated around his penis. "N-nine. Oh god."

Snape stared into the mug as he trailed the bag through the water. 

Harry drowned in his pleasure, the ecstasy so intense; his cock throbbed as if he were coming all over himself, although his balls remained full and tight. He forgot all about Snape, the storm, the war; as waves and waves of desire crashed through him, tearing him to pieces and throwing him back together again.

It was over far too quickly, the spell weakening until it was nothing more than a feeling of warmth around his penis. Harry groaned in frustration, tugging at the bonds on his wrists. He glanced over at Snape, who still sipped his tea, his long black hair now pulled back from his face. He had stripped to trousers and the fancy white dress shirt he always wore under his robes. 

Harry hated that fucking shirt. Who the hell wore crap like that when trudging through the woods? Snape never took it off and Harry, who despised that last layer between them, often dreamt of ripping it off and forcing Snape bare. He had glimpsed the scars beneath the fabric but didn't care that Snape was old and ugly and damaged. Instead, he wanted to mar him more, cover him with scars so that, no matter what happened, Snape would never be able to forget him. 

"Have you had enough?" Snape asked, placing the mug down on the table.

"No!" Harry shook his head. "Don't- don't stop."

Snape stood and stepped to the edge of the bed. "Do you want me to touch you?"

"Yes!"

Snape walked along side of the bed, trailing his fingers down Harry's torso. He lifted his fingers just before he reached Harry's groin. 

"Do you want to be fucked?" he asked in an almost casual tone.

"Yes," breathed Harry, desperate to return to the precipice.

Snape climbed on the bed, moving between Harry's spread legs. One of his hands brushed over Harry's penis, trailed across his balls, and rubbed down his crack. Harry spread his legs wider, moaning as he felt Snape's fingers caress his pucker.

"Do you want _me_ to fuck you?" A finger penetrated him, sliding in only to the knuckle.

Harry pushed back against it, his arms straining as he tried to fuck himself on the slim digit. It wasn't enough sensation, he wanted more, needed more.

"Yes! Fuck me!"

Snape pulled back his finger, rubbing around the rim. 

"Tell me, Potter," he ordered, his voice deep. "Tell me how much you want me to fuck you."

"JUST FUCKING FUCK ME, YOU BASTARD!" Harry kicked out his right leg, smacking Snape in the head. 

Snape chuckled and grabbed Harry's legs, pushing them up and apart, pressing them down on either side of Harry's chest. Magic bonds appeared around them, holding them in place as Snape shifted back, unzipped his trousers, and shoved down the clothing around his waist. Pulling a familiar vial from his robes, he popped open the lid and drizzled the contents over his dick. After sending it away, he leaned forward again and pressed the tip of his cock against Harry’s entrance. Harry bit his lip and swore that he would hex the bastard if he held out any longer. 

Thankfully, Snape had finished playing his games and he wasted no more time. He pushed inside, his warm heat spearing and spreading Harry with the slow burn of his entry. 

"Oh god," gasped Harry as Snape forced his body to accommodate the thick length. It hurt, but not more than it should, and he thrust back against the invader, trying to take in more, faster. He wanted to be consumed by the heat of Snape's body; the fire ripping away the cold emptiness inside him that grew with each death, each day that passed with two Horcruxes missing and an end nowhere in sight.

Buried to the hilt, Snape paused, the bloody shirt brushing Harry's stomach as he leaned down to bite and kiss Harry's neck and collar bone, releasing Harry’s legs from the binding spell. Harry wrapped his legs around Snape’s waist and squeezed around Snape's cock, eager to return to nine, and Snape began to thrust slow and deep, pulling his cock nearly out with each stroke. Harry moaned, focusing on how his body gripped around Snape, as he shifted his hips to find the perfect angle.

He found it, each inward push now igniting sparks of pleasure. It was so fucking good, but he wanted more. 

"Harder," Harry said, placing his legs around Snape's upper thighs to help him thrust hard. "Fuck me harder."

Snape braced himself against the mattress and drove in deep, his balls pounding against Harry's arse as he slammed in again and again, each stoke sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Harry's dick. 

Harry cried out with each inward thrust, his arousal escalating. The spell returned full force, squeezing and vibrating around his cock, and sliding up and down his piss slit. His whole body vibrated from the overload of sensations, and the muscles in his abdomen clenched and unclenched as his pleasure climbed. Every single part of him became as sensitive as his cockhead. Just when the intensity increased so much that it became painful and he was sure he was dying; killed with pleasure instead of pain, Snape grabbed his chin and said, "Look at me!"

Harry forced his eyes to Snape's fiery dark ones. As soon as their gazes met, the spell lifted from his prick and he came.

His world went white as his balls contracted and pulled up, all the fluid inside exploding up and out of his engorged cock. His back curled as the eruption swept rapidly out from his dick like a tidal wave through the rest of his body, consuming him in pleasure the way the Cruciatus claimed him in pain. Pulses of pure ecstasy travelled down his legs to his toes, making them curl as if under Snape's control, his mind focused on nothing other than the sensations coursing through his body. Release flowed through him, sweeping away all his tension and hate, and the feeling of liberation was so powerful, it was if he had left his body to fly. When clarity returned to his vision, Snape's black eyes, an arm span from his own, swam into view. 

Snape's face, normally so guarded and glacial with nothing but contempt and anger for Harry, always transformed to one of fervour and desire when they fucked. However, never had he worn such a look of concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes flitting over Harry's face.

"Never better," Harry answered before darkness overtook him.

~

He was warm when he woke. The fire, small to prevent notice, rarely spit out enough heat to keep the entire room warm and, for a moment, he thought he was back at the Burrow even though it had burned down the year before. His right arm felt strange and he glanced at it to see the lower half bandaged.

"Drink." A mug appeared out of a giant shadow to his right and Harry blinked until he recognised Snape. He accepted the warm cup and took a sip. Whatever Snape was serving him, it was warm and quite delicious, certainly better than any tea he owned. He wondered if Snape had somehow found enough plants to brew his own tea.

"Warming spells can be used for a wide variety of applications, not just on the individual," Snape lectured as he swept into the chair which still resembled a throne. He held another mug in his hands; where he had found it, Harry had no idea. "A warming spell cast upon the walls is more than sufficient to counteract the worst of the winter cold even with a small fire. And really, Potter. Even you should have enough sense to figure out how to use magic to seal cracks. If you find replenishing the barrier spells tiresome, then simply stuff the crack with moss or mud and cast a permanent hardening spell. Why you are allowed to be out here alone when you haven't the brains of a troll is beyond me, but then, the Order is not the most intelligent of organisations. Too many Gryffindors in charge will ruin any group."

"I wanted to be alone." Harry said into his mug.

"To mope and whinge in solitude? At least you have the good manners to spare others from your pathetic bouts of self-pity." Snape stood and wandered over to Harry's shelves of food.

"No, I-" Harry noticed his glasses on the bedside table and slipped them on. "I didn't want to be responsible for the death of anyone else."

Snape made a noise of derision as he poked through items on the shelves. Harry gritted his teeth and imagined casting curses at Snape's back.

"Considering how many of your Order members died last week to protect you...." Snape picked up a tin of spam, grimaced, and placed it back on the shelf. "You aren't doing a very good job of it."

"Fuck you!" Harry spat. "What do you expect me to do? Turn myself over to him? That's what you want, isn't it? You arse-kissing lackey!"

Snape marched across the room, yanking his wand from his robes. "Do you know what I want?"

Sensing an attack, Harry scrambled to find his wand. "You gonna rape me again? Torture me? Bring me to him so you can win and-?"

"No." A sneer on his face, Snape held up Harry's wand with his other hand and waved it back and forth as if he were teasing a cat. "I intend to keep you as my own personal toy to play with whenever I am bored. I might share you with the others... if they please me, but you will exist to be mine; to use as I please. That's all you are good for anyway-"

"You sick fuck!" Harry lunged for his invisibility cloak, which rested on the large table, but his legs were weak and he fell sideways, narrowly missing the edge of the table. A wave of sleepiness washed over him. "What the hell did you give me?!"

"Something to take care of you. _Mobilicorpus_." The spell wrapped around Harry and pulled him back onto the bed. 

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Harry growled as he tried to fight off the sleeping potion. "Just wait. You're dead." Whatever Snape had given him was potent and his consciousness swiftly fell away from him. As Harry drifted off to sleep again, Snape pointed his wand directly between Harry's eyes. 

" _Obliviate_." 

~

When Harry woke, sunlight streamed in through the window. He yawned and stretched, then climbed out of bed, wondering how long he'd slept. He felt remarkably refreshed, as if he'd just slept for several days straight. He hoped he hadn't. 

He padded over to his makeshift kitchen and made himself a cup of tea and beans on toast. As he bent down to lace his trainers, he realised that the gash on his right arm had been completely healed. He smiled as he ran his fingers over the area where it had been. One of these days, he would tell Snape that Obliviate didn't work on him; it never had. 

 

 

[[This was written for Snapely Holidays on insanejournal and livejournal.  
Prompt: Secrets and lies, Astronomy tower, shelter from the storm, Slytherin machinations, hurt/comfort, dub/con, long hair, white dress shirt, eye contact, plot twists; restraint, hiding, invisibility, escape, and Legilimency  
As always, please review!]]


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